


Cure a curse

by MasterEyebrow



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: AU where all the drivers are fucking, Also rare fic where Valtteri is the seductive party, Bernie is a wizard, Fem!Valtteri, Gender or Sex Swap, Jenson makes a naked appearance, Multi, Sort Of, also there's a sext to dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 16:23:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18814597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterEyebrow/pseuds/MasterEyebrow
Summary: Valtteri is cursed by Bernie. Nico gets roped into helping him undo it, because he's got experience of this particular curse.(Set some time after Liberty purchase and Bernie ousting).





	Cure a curse

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most self-indulgent and petty fic I have ever written and i have no fucking shame or regrets. It's a terrible premise and building any deeper or more meaningful themes here is a fuckin chore, so yeah, read this like it's a terrible anime from the 2000s. this is definitely the funniest fic you will read this year
> 
> one reason i wrote this was bc a lot of the fics with this premise irk me off with how they view gender - i mean "he is a she now!" and switch pronouns and refer to the character who has transformed as a gender they now look like - and like. binttchchch if you changed out of a sudden and involuntarily and tried to undo it you'd probably go through 70 layers of nuance and shit. am i really getting myself worked up bc gender stuff in fanfiction?? ya betcha bc i love being worked up. anyway enjoy the fic

_/Do you know what this is?/_

It’s unusual for Valtteri to contact Nico, there’s really not many overlapping areas of their lives that would require so. That’s surprising enough on its own, but the photo attached to the message is a whole another thing.

_/Yes… why ask me?/_

Nico hasn’t seen one of those since he retired. He thought they were a thing of the past all together with the new owners and everything, but he can’t say he’s really surprised that this has persisted through. They’re nasty things, much like the sender. That’s probably the point. Valtteri is typing his reply, in a state of distress Nico supposes.

_/Address was mine. Letter inside was addressed to you. From Bernie./_

_/PLS EXPLAIN/_

How does one explain that, honestly? Nico laughs nervously. It’s kind of a feat to go this long without coming across these parcels. Valtteri doesn’t really do much to piss people off though, so maybe even Bernie has ignored him – or maybe it’s an unfortunate mix-up, since it seems to be meant for Nico.

_/Long story, u tell me what happened/_

Valtteri typing, then stops, starts again and Nico feels like he might’ve managed to irritate Valtteri for a moment. Then he receives a photo, and when it loads Nico has to do a double-take.

Definitely a familiar effect that came from this parcel. It takes some seconds for Nico to recover from this… revelation, and then he types back a response.

_/I think I should come over to explain/_

*

It doesn’t take too long for Nico to arrive at Valtteri’s apartment. He’s been there a few times before, mostly around the time Valtteri was changing teams (they met at Nico’s place once, which turned out to be bad idea when Alaïa realised Valtteri would understand _all_  the bad words grandpa Keke has taught her and recited them repeatedly). He stops at his door, tries to prepare himself to witness this in the most cordial and proper way possible. Valtteri is probably at a… fragile state because of this.

He knocks.

Nico realises just how nervous he is, the moment he hears noise from the flat – a thud, followed by frantic steps – he snorts, completely unamused by the situation but unable to stop it. He’s going to be so bad with this.

There’s the scratch of the door eye, followed by a quiet moment heavy with the responsibility of trying to act sympathetic and serious. Then the click of the lock, and the door opens, just a little.

“Get in”, Valtteri hisses – unfamiliar voice, familiar tone, Nico thinks.

Without any fuss Nico slips inside, carefully closes the door behind him. His back is turned to the apartment, to Valtteri, just to make sure he is as equipped as possible.

“Okay, explain. What – what is this?”

Nico turns to face Valtteri, his posture unnaturally good in an effort to seem smart and polite. It’s pointless, because the moment Nico sees Valtteri he cracks, laughs without humour. All work is wasted, and Valtteri is fuming.

“It’s not funny”, he says.

“It really isn’t”, Nico says, still laughing. God, he’s such an asshole. “I didn’t know your hair is wavy.”

Valtteri isn’t impressed with Nico’s chatting. He stands there, fuming, arms crossed across his chest – his much more prominent chest. His hair is longer, too, uneven and shapeless and reaches his jaw, and it doesn’t stay put, strands that are tucked behind his ear falling on his face again (there really is no reason for hair to grow in this ordeal, but Nico’s figured it has to do with Bernie’s view of women). His features are softer too, not that Valtteri still isn’t bulkier and stockier than an F1 driver usually is, but on his own standards he’s definitely more… delicate. _Slightly_  more delicate.

Nico takes a deep breath, tries to figure out where to start.

“God, Bernie is such an ass.”

“Really?! You think? And also, how? Just – how?! I have -” Valtteri points at himself, his chest – his _chest_. “- I have _everything_.”

“Let’s just sit down and I’ll give you the whole story.”

*

It’s no secret that Bernie is old - _really old_. Older than what his papers say. He’s not ancient, Nico thinks, but old enough that he’s been an old shithead in Tudor court and that Henry VIII hated his guts. Or that’s what they say. Nico is willing to believe basically anything, because before him is a very distressed Valtteri looking very feminine through and through, and this is not the first time he sees something like this, and he definitely has first-hand experience, too. Because of course, Bernie is a wizard or something. With actual magic and curses and yes, curses that have been experienced several times.

“I can’t believe Bernie has reserved these specifically for me”, Nico mutters when he examines the parcel remains. “I can’t believe he’s so lazy he didn’t come up with something designed for you. He really is turning senile.”

“So this has happened to you?” Valtteri asks. “How do you undo it?”

Nico shrugs.

“Sometimes it wears off. Sometimes he sends a potion to reverse it. Sometimes you have to figure it out on your own. Now that he’s not in charge anymore, I think it’s the third option.”

Valtteri groans, slumps on the sofa.

“What did I ever do to him?”

“Probably nothing. He would’ve put a letter here for you if it was personal. He’s, well, you know Bernie. I think he’s just gone berserk and sends this stuff to everyone as a vendetta, doesn’t bother checking if they’re already addressed to someone else. I mean, I saw one of these parcels get tossed from the window and another with tyre marks on today, so you’re not the only one with these. Others just knew that they have to get rid of them.”

Valtteri makes a sound of complaint. Nico puts away the parcel, not too keen to find out if there’s an after-spell waiting to be triggered.

“Why didn’t I know about these? No one has ever mentioned them.”

“Non-disclosure agreements, I guess”, Nico suggests. “Also you never talk about stuff with anyone. Like. Ever.”

Valtteri looks at Nico dryly.

“Is this the moment to criticise my social skills? Really?”

Nico raises his hands, accepts the fact that Valtteri is going to be a big grump about this for a long time.

“Fine, let’s focus on this. You open the parcel, big poof, you’ve transformed. Basic plot.”

“Yeah. So Bernie just… turns people into girls?”

“Oh, oh no. He likes specialised revenges. _I_  get turned into a girl. Other people have other things, usually. He just seemed to have some spare girl-spells or something.”

Valtteri looks at Nico quizzically.

“Why just you, then?”

“Uhh, hello, I’m Britney? If you’ve noticed I’ve been the designated girl-substitute ever since I graced the paddock. And, as Bernie said once, ‘you make the best looking lady of the drivers and I don’t want ugly women around anymore than there is’, because he’s shitty in every possible way.”

Valtteri stares Nico sourly. If it wasn’t for the situation he’d probably be more understanding and open to vent about things not concerning just him. Nico has to let him pass on this one.

“So you know what I have to do to turn back?” Valtteri asks. Nico cringes, thinking of everything he’s been through in this position.

“Like said, either it wears off, you get a potion from Bernie or have to figure it out on your own. How many days you have before you have to be somewhere?”

“Four.”

“Ugh. Get to work, then.”

*

First thing on Nico’s list of undoing a curse is a workout – try to burn out the substances that might’ve seeped in. Valtteri doesn’t put up a resistance, he’s very keen to get this over with, and Nico waits in the living room as Valtteri finds himself gym clothes.

“Nico?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a problem”, Valtteri says very sheepishly. “My – it’s the – I’m – _the boobs_. They’re in the way.”

Nico blinks, processing what he has just heard.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re big, okay?!”

Valtteri was wearing a loose hoodie earlier so Nico can’t really tell just how big they are (he wasn’t looking, absolutely not), but Valtteri probably knows better. Nico himself has found himself relatively flat under these spells, but realises this might pose an issue.

“I- I – Do you need a sports bra or something?” he asks slowly, feels like he’s threading on a line above lava.

“Nico!”

“Well what else am I supposed to ask? Does Emilia have clothes here? Can you borrow hers?”

“I tried! They don’t fit!” Valtteri’s snappy, understandably.

“Can’t you try without them? Just one workout and it might be over with it.”

Valtteri opens the door, a slightly more tight-fit T-shirt on now, and – yeah. He was right about the size.

“If this doesn’t work I’ll fling you off the roof.”

“I’m sure”, Nico nods. “Right, let’s get started.”

Nico trails after Valtteri to his home gym, and he’s not sure if he’s looking too much or is it fine, he’s just checking what has changed, and the clothes definitely don’t fit right at the moment, too tight in certain places and too loose in others. Valtteri seems very aware of this, tugging the hem of his shirt anxiously.

“So I just have to break out a good sweat, or?”

“Work it out of your system. Do your regular workout.”

Valtteri is visibly uncomfortable throughout his warmup stretching, constantly adjusting and shifting, but eventually gets through and moves onto the treadmill, uncertain as ever. Nico bites his lip, attempts to not come off too rude.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to work on?” Nico asks. Valtteri looks at him, quite vicious for a second.

“It’s my regular workout. Say another word and you’re out.”

Nico shuts up and Valtteri adjusts the settings, starts with a slower pace. He’s blushing, and not for the exercise.

“Don’t look, please”, Valtteri says. Nico doesn’t have to be told twice as he turns away immediately. It’s difficult enough as it already is, he doesn’t need to paralyse Valtteri with discomfort. The sound of Valtteri’s shoes hitting the surface can’t be ignored, they’re off-pace and without rhythm and within ten seconds Nico hears a beep and the treadmill being turned off.

“I can’t run like this”, Valtteri whines. “I have to hold them so they won’t be going everywhere.”

“Thanks for the visual”, Nico comments. Valtteri glares him icily. “Maybe there’s something else you can try?” Nico suggests.

They run out of ideas fast. Even things that Valtteri is able to do don’t amount to anything as he still has to readjust constantly. They have to admit that at least without a sports bra, working out isn’t the way to get this done with.

*

Next on Nico’s list: showering. Strategically placed after the workout, except not a single drop of sweat was extracted during this session. Still. Might wash off the curse.

“Am I supposed to… uh, wash up properly or just stand there?” Valtteri asks, turning red and doesn’t even look at Nico. If it wasn’t so ridiculous and serious it would be endearing.

“Wash up everything, can’t leave until you’ve scrubbed all of yourself. You’ve taken a look at yourself like this, haven’t you?”

Valtteri doesn’t answer. Nico rolls his eyes and wipes his face.

“God, you are the most awkward, aren’t you? Just, get in. The sooner it’s over with the better, right?”

Nico ushers Valtteri to the bathroom and takes a seat, whipping out his phone. He’s not going to kiss and tell, but it doesn’t hurt to do a little inquiry around the driver community to see if others have received parcels and what it took to get rid of their spells. Sure enough, some have been sent those godawful things and seems that most have appropriately rid them. Berserk Bernie seems like the culprit.

“How long am I supposed to stay here? Nothing’s happening.”

“Give it a moment”, Nico answers. “You got to wash everything.”

That sounds a little too… much. Nico cringes. That can’t be saved. Valtteri doesn’t answer, probably too mortified.

It takes ten minutes or so before Nico hears Valtteri turn off the shower. It’s then when it occurs to Nico he hasn’t said everything.

“Oh, you can’t put on the clothes you wore before! There might be spell remnants on them.”

“Now you tell me”, Valtteri groans. “Nothing happened anyway, does it even matter?”

“It might be a delayed effect”, Nico explains. “You have to be careful with these things, you don’t want to find out the first thing you tried failed because you didn’t do it right.”

There’s cussing on the other side of the door, and shortly Valtteri opens the door, towel wrapped around and he dashes to the bedroom, leaving wet footprints after. Nico realises he’s staring. Rude.

“Nothing is happening, what else can I do?” Valtteri asks from the bedroom, rummaging his closet.

Nico cringes thinking the options left.

“Would you be more willing to try some questionable chemistry or… canoodling with another driver?”

Valtteri stumbles to the doorway, stares Nico in bewilderment.

*

It’s not really a surprise that Valtteri chooses questionable chemistry, especially after Nico clarifies it’s more like questionable cooking. _Very_  questionable cooking. Nico runs some quick errands and returns with a bag of unsuspecting groceries. Valtteri is back in the loosest fitting clothes he could possibly find, completely unwilling to show any figure that is new on him.

“So how questionable is this going to be?” Valtteri asks suspiciously as Nico unloads the bag. “This doesn’t look too weird.”

Nico answers by tossing every single bag of spices he has bought to Valtteri.

“You’re going to drink those. All of those. At once.”

“What?”

“Cheap home chemistry. Also known as potion making.”

“ _What_?”

“Yeah, that’s a part of the job… amateur witchcraft”, Nico says with such nonchalance it concerns him. When did this become normal? He’s almost grateful for Valtteri’s shocked reaction, a touch from reality where Bernie is just an arsehole instead of a magical arsehole.

“What if we make another potion? What there’s more transformations? I’m not up for this.”

“Well, would you rather get cozy with another driver?”

Valtteri turns bright red, is at loss of words. The mere idea is rather concerning and mortifying.

“Didn’t think so. And nothing is going to happen, I’ve done these potions a zillion times. They’re all familiar recipes. Hand me a pot, please. I got this.”

“I hope so”, Valtteri mutters, little faith in Nico as rummages his kitchen cabinets. Nico rolls his eyes, washing his hands.

“Do you see boobs on me? Trust me. I know what I’m doing, plenty of experience.”

Valtteri hums, quite untrusting, as he gives Nico a kettle that he fills with water. He follows closely as Nico adds the ingredients, grows more anxious every time a whole bag of hot spice is mixed in. It turns quickly into a concoction so potent it makes eyes water.

“What exactly is the point of this?” Valtteri asks. “This doesn’t seem very magical.”

“Same as exercise. Works out the spell out of your system.”

Valtteri blinks, realising the implication of this.

“ _Oh no._ ”

*

They end up in the toilet, Valtteri puking his guts out while Nico holds his sweaty hair so it won’t get in the way. He’s such a good friend.

“You should’ve told me you’re giving me food poisoning and not…. ugh…. say it’s just cooking”, Valtteri groans, his voice caught in the echoes of the toilet bowl. Nico is concerned with his lack of concern over all of this.

“Would you have chosen the second option if I had?”

Valtteri doesn’t answer. Largely due to heaving again. Nico suspects they would be in this exact situation even if he had been more accurate.

*

Valtteri is even more bitter once he finds out all the other foods are to be ingested separately without any fuss and weird concoctions. Nico tries to explain that it’s almost never this easy and Bernie always tries to make these spells as difficult as possible to break, making it more possible that it was the spice horror soup, but it has very little calming effect.

“So nothing’s happening with working it out of your system, so we can also rule out exercise – it’s either a spell with a time limit or it will break with a specific action”, Nico lists the remaining options.

“Great”, Valtteri mutters, peeling an orange. “What actions, for example?”

“Well, sex with another driver is common”, Nico says. Valtteri makes a disgusted sound, frowning.

“Can I ask, how did you even find out about that?”

Nico raises his eyebrow, gives Valtteri a very dry look. “By doing it, obviously.”

Valtteri’s eyes widen and some curious excitement mix in with his discomfort as he readjusts to a more attentive position, completely forgetting about the orange.

“No! With who?”

“You mean with who when I found out about it or with who in general?”

“There’s more than one?”

Nico stares Valtteri, pleasantly shocked.

“Are you saying you haven’t heard the rumours, or that you’ve dismissed all the rumours about me? God. Aren’t you the purest thing.”

“I’ve heard, but, uh - the source wasn’t very believable so I didn’t think it was true.”

Valtteri looks bashful, and now it’s Nico’s turn to be curious.

“What source?”

“It was after some race in Europe a few years ago, there was a party and Daniel forced me to join him for some reason – he was drunk, I was tipsy – and Jenson was there too, /really/ drunk. And told us a bunch of stuff more and less crazy. I didn’t buy any of it.”

Nico scoffs amusedly.

“ _Of course_ ”, he says, not surprised at all. “Well, I suppose that answers your question then.”

“How did that happen?” Valtteri asks.

“Jenson didn’t tell you?”

“It was less about how things happened and more about… graphic things.”

Valtteri is flustered, poor thing, realising what he thought was just a strange conversation with Jenson to be complete fact. Nico is rather unfazed, very aware of how much Jenson adores him.

“Well, it was pretty easy, Jenson is completely infatuated with me to begin with, and I was a little distraught – you know what I mean – and was looking for a little bit of comfort. He was available and enthusiastic, and – well, it wasn’t the first time.”

“What?!”

Valtteri is receiving far too much information in one day to be considered healthy.

*

Despite ingesting every single thing Nico can think of, Valtteri does not transform back. Exhausted by the stupidity of the day, Valtteri goes to bed early and Nico leaves, promising to return tomorrow with a new bag of tricks if the spell hasn’t worn off by then.

Before Nico calls it night he messages Jenson.

_/you remember partying with Daniel and Valtteri a few years ago somewhere in Europe?/_

_/yeeesssssss :)/_

_/sounds like a happy memory. apparently you were talking about me to those two./_

_/could be. that part isnt very clear. who told u, tho?/_

_/Valtteri. he’s experiencing a little bit of bernie’s spells. im helping around/_

_/aw, so cute!!! what is up with him?/_

_/one of the spells Bernie reserved for me./_

_/0_0 bet that’s a sight! pics?/_

_/hed kill me for it. also whats the happy memory of that night? should I be concerned?/_

_/Dan ;)/_

_/poor guy/_

*

“What you have to know about these tricks is that they are much less likely to be the cure, and some of these are totally uncertain, as in they might be things that triggered the transformation, but I can’t be sure”, Nico explains. “So that’s why we didn’t try them yesterday.”

“Whatever, let’s get this going”, Valtteri says, much more composed than he was yesterday. His hair is tied back today, not very well though – Nico supposes Valtteri doesn’t have too much experience with long hair.

No time to waste, though, so Nico puts his bag on the table and takes out a set of candles, chalk, and a crusty old book. Valtteri raises his eyebrows.

“What’s this supposed to be?”

“More amateur witchcraft.”

*

Despite the dramatic setting, large pentagram drawn on the floor and masses of black candles lit around it, Valtteri standing in the middle of the circle while Nico spouts a spell in Latin, the attempt of spell-reversing doesn’t do much. It does _something_  – it creates another big poof of magic – but it doesn’t have any effect apart from that. It’s probably a good thing. Nico isn’t sure if he can actually do magic right.

“You speak Latin or did you just read that?” Valtteri asks, a suspicion in his voice that Nico has learnt to recognise in a very specific group of people.

“I have some understanding, yes.”

“Yllätyspyllätys.”

*

“I’m certain you’re just messing with me now”, Valtteri mumbles.

“I swear to God I’m not. I’m sure you’d kill me if you found out, and I have better things to do.”

It’s one of those things Nico isn’t certain about at all – it might be that the action triggers the transformation, it could be the ingredients – it might not be the case at all and the spell just happens to wear off at the right time, but Nico thinks this might have worked for him once or twice. But it’s just a maybe.

“If I say something will you kill me?” Nico asks, careful with the brush.

“Possibly.”

“This eyeshadow is really good on you.”

If it wasn’t for the fact Nico is working on Valtteri’s eyes at that moment and that Valtteri is a polite young _man_ who sits still in makeup – a valuable and underappreciated skill drivers must have these days – Valtteri would probably give him the iciest of glares. Instead Nico faces deadly silence.

“How did this occur to you, then?” Valtteri asks when Nico gets more colour on the brush.

“Vivian wanted to see what I’d look like in full makeup”, Nico says. “And I look lovely, in case you’re wondering. I’d Instagram the photos if I could.”

Valtteri is scowling. He is taking all this much too seriously.

“Why are you putting so much effort into this, anyway? Can’t you just slab something on me randomly?”

“I told you, it might be action-specific”, Nico explains once again. “Besides, if this doesn’t work out, the next thing is to head out.”

“Out?!”

“Oh, don’t worry. No one will recognise you. Worst case scenario is that people think I’m going out with your sister.”

“I know you’re an only child so you can’t understand, but as someone with an actual sister that sounds awful.”

“Oh, I’m just joking. Stay still”, Nico applies more eyeshadow on Valtteri’s lid. “Besides, one of your managers was actually married to my aunt, this sport has the smallest circles. Wouldn’t be surprising if a driver dated another one’s sister.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better or?”

“I’m just talking nonsense to keep you chill. Also, Mika was managed by my father, Mika manages you with Didier – I think that makes you the managerially super-inbred bastard.”

Lo and behold, Valtteri cracks a smile, and even laughs.

“Shut up”, he says, very little malice in his tone though. Nico’s mouth curves, a sense of relief as Valtteri relaxes just a little bit.

“Well, it’s true”, Nico says. “And then there’s Toto and Mercedes and even Williams. In F1 standards, no one is as inbred as you are. I’m like, your cousin-uncle or something.”

“Just do the makeup”, Valtteri laughs.

*

Nico has probably been far too careless with his adventures while under the curse – he’d prefer if Valtteri transformed back into his normal self before he finds out about everything, Nico still believes he has a reputation to uphold. Going to the beach and swimming in the sea are not the worst thing he’s done, oh no, even if it does pose the chance that someone recognises him in a very different appearance. He was quite well disguised when he was at the beach though – or perhaps that’s the wrong word. He was very much in a distracting style as he was very much nude. He’s hoping the sea water works without Nico even having to tell Valtteri he might have to be skinny dipping. (Under normal circumstances Nico is fairly certain this wouldn’t pose a problem to Valtteri, but seeing how he had to be basically pushed into the shower this spell-ridden body would definitely make him much less compliant).

It’s night – Valtteri refused to leave the house at a time when people might be out and when there’s light – and they’re driving alongside the coast line looking for a beach secluded enough. Nico was never as careful as Valtteri is being right now. He doesn’t know if it means Valtteri is paranoid or that Nico has just been very, very lucky.

“You really don’t need the sunglasses”, Nico says. Valtteri grunts.

“I don’t want to be recognised by anyone.”

“No one is here expect me and you! And you look totally different.”

“But _you_  look like yourself. Someone might put two and two together.”

Nico glances at Valtteri in disbelief.

“If you’re this paranoid always no wonder you are so awkward.”

They finally find a remote beach with absolutely no one in sight or within a good distance. Valtteri leaves the car in a comically fearful way, walking very closely to the vehicle and looking around to be certain there is no one else. He’s wearing a hoodie in addition to his swimming shorts and t-shirt even though it really warm outside – just another way to keep his identity a secret. Another thing Nico never bothered with, this actual effort. He just trusted he looks different enough for no one to think about it.

“Do I need to drag you in the water or will you find your own way?” Nico asks. “Or perhaps you’re stalling because you’re growing accustomed to this new you?”

Valtteri turns his attention to Nico, ever so murderous-looking after this provocation. Fair enough.

“I’m going, I’m going”, he spits, reluctantly rids his hoodie and shoes and heads towards the water. He stops are the border of the land and sea, looks at Nico.

“So I just need to dive in, right?”

“Right. I mean, if I’m right.”

Valtteri doesn’t look too assured, but he doesn’t have much hope besides Nico’s conclusions. With a frustrated sigh, he steps in the water, walks some distance until he’s waist-deep in. Nico watches by the shore, really hopes they’ll get this over with this time.

Valtteri dives in, stays underwater for a few seconds before re-emerging, and really, he’s just so unfortunate with the haircut this spell gave him, looks so bad wet despite the ponytail (and Valtteri’s lack of practice with these simple hairstyles doesn’t help at all.

Valtteri turns to Nico, pushes the loose hair off his face and cusses in disappointment, still very much untransformed. And now his makeup is running, too. (Nico does try to ignore how the T-shirt is now clinging to Valtteri’s form.)

“Do it again”, Nico encourages him, doesn’t have the guts to suggest skinny dipping just yet. “Maybe it’s a strong spell?”

Valtteri scoffs and doesn’t seem to have too much faith in Nico, but still lets himself fall back-first into the water, stays even longer under this time. And still, no results. He resurfaces still very much unchanged.

“This feels stupid”, Valtteri says, soaking wet as he heads back to the shore. Nico can’t help but laugh morbidly.

“Oh, then you’re going to love what I have in store next.”

Valtteri stares him, stops dead in his tracks.

“What is it?” he asks, so very keen to not find out. Poor thing doesn’t have a choice.

“Clothes off, love. You have to try this naked.”

Nico expects protest, even a tantrum, but at least some verbal resistance and bargaining. Instead, he’s faced with silence, Valtteri’s big eyes on him for uncomfortably long, and then – a deep sigh full of frustration.

“I’m going to kill Bernie”, Valtteri mutters, steps on dry land. Nico is taken off guard when Valtteri starts immediately to discard the rest of his clothes, and turns around automatically, tries his best to respect Valtteri’s state of undressing. And then he feels a wet smack on his head – Valtteri tosses his soaking T-shirt on the back of Nico’s head.

“God, you’re so bitchy”, Nico hisses, grabs the garment. He feels another smack, the wet shorts hitting him on his shin.

“Well excuse me”, Valtteri replies agitatedly. Nico doesn’t look, but he hears some faint steps, then splashing. Then a big splash. Then silence. It continues so long Nico turns around, kind of worried something might’ve happened, but it’s just then when Valtteri pops to surface, and yeah – Nico sees _something_ , and quickly turns around before Valtteri catches him in the act.

“Nothing!” Valtteri spits.

“Try again?” Nico suggests warily.

“How many times you did it? This should work right away, or?”

“I told you, I don’t know what triggers it and when, when I did this I had done a lot of other things that might’ve been the cause as well.”

Nico doesn’t hear the reply but recognises the tone as something quite frustrated, perhaps some cusses thrown in there as well, and another splash follows.

Nothing happens, and the drive back is Valtteri desperately trying to scrub off the remaining makeup on his face.

*

Nico is pretty convinced alcohol doesn’t have the desired effect on this curse – it loosens you up, and you might do some things that do trigger it away thanks to being drunk, but drinking itself doesn’t probably have to do with undoing the spell. Still – there is absolutely nothing to lose in trying, and Valtteri definitely needs a drink or two. Or a dozen.

“Would a hangover work? Do I need to drink myself to that point?” Valtteri wonders, helping himself to his third glass of wine. “I’m pretty sure I’m doing it anyway.”

“Might as well try”, Nico says. They’re back at Valtteri’s flat, Nico’s sat on the sofa and Valtteri’s curled in the arm chair. Nico’s not counting his drinks, he’s there as a support person. He’s having some as well quite liberally, but drinking doesn’t matter, right? One could also argue he doesn’t need to drink in the first place, but he deserves to get a little bit wasted after hanging out with a cursed driver for the whole day.

“What if this doesn’t work? What’s left then?” Valtteri asks, gulps down some wine. Nico stares blankly ahead, his head swaying in thought.

“I guess time, Bernie sending you an antidote… and banging another driver.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, but… If I were you I’d start looking for viable options to fornicate with.”

“Double ew”, Valtteri frowns, takes another generous gulp. “You really think Bernie wouldn’t send the antidote?”

“Why would he? It’s kind of not his problem anymore. He doesn’t have anything to lose if you show up on the grid a bit more… aerodynamic.”

“And there’s no way I’d get some antidote any other way?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t oppose breaking in, right?”

“Not really.”

Nico snickers, before a concerning possibility pops into his mind.

“I mean, if he catches us he might throw another spell in the mix. We don’t want that, do we?”

Valtteri hums disappointedly. Breaking in Bernie’s place is still a very good option, probably. He hasn’t done it personally, but he knows instances of where a driver has gone that far – well. He even knows an instance where another driver has broken into Bernie’s house for another driver – for him. He’s very persuasive and charismatic, and wonderful with bribes. Especially when he’s equipped with a more curvy form.

Nico is quite tipsy already, tipsy enough to be a little braver with his efforts to relax Valtteri. It seems that Valtteri is in a more malleable in his own intoxication. Nico puts down his glass, leans forward, catching Valtteri’s attention.

“So”, he starts, knows just how risqué waters he is about to enter. “If you had to choose a driver – who would you choose?”

Valtteri stares Nico, his face blank and Nico can’t quite read his mood – then Valtteri snickers, a smile breaks on his face and he looks away, a little blush on his cheeks.

“God, we’re going to this, are we?” he laughs. He’s pretty buzzed, probably, because there’s hardly a hint of offense or unwillingness to even think about it. Nico feels like a criminal mastermind, just a little bit. Valtteri thinks for a moment, biting his lip and brushing off a stray strand of hair off his face.

“Does – is there like, rules? Like, does it have to be a current driver?” he asks Nico. Nico snorts.

“What, you want to mess with some crusty old driver?” he snides. Valtteri gives him a dry look, and it takes a moment from Nico to realise the meaning.

“Oh, right. I’m retired, too. Right. Uh – I don’t think so? I mean, I’ve done… things.”

“Things”, Valtteri repeats, expectantly. He looks at Nico curiously.

“Yes. Things. We don’t need to go to details.”

Valtteri quirks his brow. He’s the picture of demand, really, and Nico finds himself quite weak before him, for some reason. So yeah. He’s going to have to go to details, and Valtteri doesn’t even have to persuade him.

“Ugh, well – I’ve had quite a few encounters with this curse thing with other drivers… and retired drivers… and sometimes, uh, the same time.”

“What? Who?” Valtteri asks, way too enthusiastic. Nico looks away, a bit embarrassed.

“Well, there was Jenson when we still were driving, and then there was… Mark…”

“Webber?”

“Who else? We had a bit of a threeway.”

“How did that happen?”

“Oh, that’s not for your ears. We are not going there.” Some stories are too good to be shared, too ridiculous. This one… oh no.

“Fine”, Valtteri says petulantly. “Well, who else have you been with?”

“Wasn’t this supposed to be about who _you_  would be with if you had to?” Nico tries to steer the conversation back to the starting point.

“Yeah, but can’t I get a reference? I want all the necessary information.”

“I’ll tell you if you need to know anything”, Nico steers away from his escapades. “Ok, pick someone.”

Valtteri tosses his shoulders, grimacing in his contemplation. It’s not like there are that many good options, honestly. Nico is quite glad he had his secured bootycalls. Having to come up with some viable help at this urgency from a pack like this… he really retired at the right time.

Valtteri laughs in vague disgust and amusement.

“For some reason I keep imagining Daniel”, Valtteri says as Nico is taking a drink, and Nico almost spits out the wine, covering his mouth just in time.

“Oh, god, why?” Nico cringes, hiccupping. “It’s _Dan_.”

“I know! But, he’s, you know, ridiculous – he’d probably be up to it, right? Like, the weirdness would not turn him off.”

“Oh, it definitely would not turn him _off_ ”, Nico mutters. “I guess he’s a possibility. He’s just - _weird_. Who else?”

Valtteri thinks – it kind of looks like he’s having fun with this. Imagine that.

“I’m kind of realising I don’t like a whole lot of the paddock”, Valtteri admits, says it like it’s a juicy secret. “I’d rather have this spell on me for the rest of my life than spend a minute in sack with some of them.”

“How about Seb?” Nico dares to suggest. He’s hardly serious, but he’s pretty certain this idea will rise a lot of discussion. Sure enough, Valtteri rolls his eyes, takes a generous gulp of wine.

“Oh, he’d love this, wouldn’t he”, Valtteri says, gestures at his admittedly voluptuous body. “Way too much. No no. Not the fetish freak.”

“You don’t know about my loose reputation but you know Seb has a Finn fetish.”

Valtteri looks at Nico dryly.

“It’s just the most obvious thing in the world. Even I notice things sometimes, and it’s pretty hard to not notice Seb basically breathing on my neck because he wants to add me in his collection. Ew. No.”

“Hear hear”, Nico responds sympathetically. He can get behind that – Seb is kind of on the weirdest end of the spectrum when it comes to drivers. Seb has actually been disappointed when he has wanted to chat Nico up about being Finnish, and Nico just isn’t very much that to be totally honest, at least not the flavour Seb is after. He’s not sorry about that at all.

“Okay, maybe something more _familiar_? Would you go for Kimi?” Nico suggests. He’s kind of surprised when Valtteri doesn’t reply, just stares Nico in a strange silence, smiles awkwardly. Nico’s eyes widen.

“You don’t like _Kimi_?” he asks in disbelief. Like, a lot of people don’t like Kimi. Nico just kind of supposed Valtteri wouldn’t, they seem to have been getting along most of the time.

“I don’t!” Valtteri exclaims, definitely drunk. “He’s such a – whatever. I haven’t said this to anyone, but”, Valtteri leans a little closer. “I don’t even understand what he says most of the time. In any language!”

“Oh my god”, Nico laughs. “Everyone thinks you two get along swimmingly!”

“Would you start an argument with someone you can’t understand?” Valtteri points out. Nico shrugs. Valtteri isn’t completely wrong there. Another idea starts brewing in Nico’s head, just as bad and ridiculous as the ones before.

“Okay, any other Finnish drivers?”

Valtteri scoffs, empties his glass. He looks Nico in the eye as he places the glass on the table and refills it.

“Maybe I have to bang your dad”, he deadpans. Yeah, Nico absolutely had that coming. The mere idea makes him shudder.

“Please no”, Nico groans. “Let’s keep dad out this, shall we?”

Luckily Valtteri is still polite enough to respect this, resumes to come up with options – not that either of them seem too seriously invested in this at this point. It has turned into a silly discussion and shit talk, but at least Valtteri seems to be at ease.

“I have Heikki’s number”, Valtteri says, not too confident. Nico shakes his head disapprovingly.

“Oh no. Not Heikki. He’s too thick with these kind of delicate situations.”

“He is?”

“Head is all bone and zero brain”, Nico assures. “So annoying. I once tried to see if he’s an option, and he just wouldn’t get it, even though he totally knows about these curses. Or maybe he was being a little shit, doesn’t matter. He’s crap.”

“Okay, how about Lewis?”

Chills run down Nico’s spine.

“He’d be better than Heikki”, he admits, almost reluctant. “But Lewis is a minefield in a totally different level. Besides, do you want your teammate to be the one to help you out?”

“You have experience on that?” Valtteri asks, shifts in his seat and Nico might be just overthinking this but it seems just a little bit flirty, on arm on the arm rest and legs thrown over the other one, no slugging or trying to hide his body and curves like he has done so far, Valtteri’s head cocked slightly, that one stray strand of hair once again on Valtteri’s face.

He’s overthinking it, Nico assures himself, and drinks more wine.

“Oh yes”, Nico says. “You don’t want to go there. Forget Lewis. You seem to be getting along now so you might want to keep it that way.”

Valtteri’s eyes are on him, expectant, and Valtteri is pretty damn persuasive like this – he has a weird kind of confidence about himself that manifests in his cursed body, and Nico realises he really needs to watch out for this because he just might talk about things he doesn’t want to because he folds under Valtteri’s strange power.

“So, who else we have? Anyone on the grid? Off the grid?”

Valtteri shrugs lazily, looks off to the distance for a moment, biting down the corner of his lip in consideration. Nico feels some weird tension growing, almost knows what is about to come but doesn’t quite accept it into his consciousness. Valtteri looks back at him, that strange power that Valtteri has found grown a tenfold.

“How about you?”

There’s very little joking there – Valtteri is smiling, but it’s more seductive than playful. It is a legitimate question. Nico sits there, frozen, knows this has been an option all along but didn’t think he’d actually face it at some point.

“Me?” he finally asks, chuckling, if not with a nervous tint. “Are you sure about that?”

“You’ve been helping me along so far, why chicken out now? Obviously sleeping with drivers isn’t a problem or off limits to you, right?”

Nico can’t fathom where Valtteri has gained this confidence all of a sudden, he’s been nothing but a mess under this curse but now – it’s the alcohol, right? It has to be. Valtteri is turning out to be a little vixen under the influence.

“It’s not”, Nico admits. It’s not convenient to unmake it as an option when it might be the only thing that breaks a curse. “Not sure if you’re really up for it, though.”

“I know I’m drunk”, Valtteri says, with some effort to sound sober, perhaps. “But I also know I have to get rid of this curse, and you’d be convenient there.”

“Yeah?” Nico asks. He doesn’t quite know what there is to ask, though. Somehow he can’t quite face this approach in a forward way. He’s been aware that this is an option from the very beginning – he though he accepted it as an option right away, and that Valtteri has been the one who has needed to be brought to this point. But now it turns out that Nico can’t quite handle it happening like this, with alcohol, with Valtteri being so bold - _seductive_ , even. Alcohol, that he knew would probably be involved – but perhaps he assumed that he’d be the one having to do some wooing, in a desperate situation? And Valtteri doesn’t seem all that desperate at the moment. He seems to have found some foreign control in this curse, and it is unsettling to Nico.

Even if somewhat familiar.

“You’re not up for it.”

Valtteri is quite blunt, no questions. Nico doesn’t like that his hesitance is so clear to him.

“I’m not saying I’m not”, Nico says, finds himself scrambling for an explanation. “I wasn’t just expecting this to be discussed as such a serious option, at least at this point.”

“You’re not that stupid to not take that into account”, Valtteri points out quite truthfully. Nico cocks his head from side to side, unable to hide from Valtteri’s keen eye.

“It’s quite unnerving to hear you being so straight with these observations”, Nico says, laughs nervously. “Makes me wonder how much you notice and don’t say when you’re sober.”

Valtteri smiles, slightly smug.

“That’s something for you to think about”, he replies, ever as enigmatic.

God, Nico did absolutely not prepare for this kind of Valtteri, this is completely out of his rulebook, his domain, and Nico holds up against a lot of shit from a lot of drivers but this is so completely out of the blue he’s struggling to even keep up, somehow. And yeah – he’s kind of responding to it with too much interest.

Valtteri’s shirt is a little bunched and it shows his side, the waistband of his sweatpants a hint lower than it should be, revealing smooth skin, a bit of his stomach; and Nico catches himself staring, and Valtteri catches him doing that. Their eyes meet, and it’s like Valtteri is daring Nico, still and waiting for him to do something.

A numb terror flattens Nico’s ability to proceed, and he inhales, looks away awkwardly.

“I need some air”, he says, stands up hurriedly and heads to the balcony as Valtteri watches, gaze heavy on him.

*

The mood dissipates when Nico comes back, they just drink more wine and talk shit about other drivers, more or less related to the topic. They end up pretty drunk, and Nico crashes on Valtteri’s sofa for the night.

The morning comes with a lovely hangover, and Nico awakens with a nausea, a headache and a feeling of something regretful. Very familiar sensations all of these, but the regret he can’t quite yet place.

He hears a door opening and steps nearing in, in somewhat disturbed rhythm.

“/Nico/” Valtteri whines, sounds just as hungover as he is. “The fucking worst thing has happened”, he croaks as he comes to the living room, his phone in his hand and his face as white as a sheet. He’s only in a t-shirt and boxers, looking askew. Also, still very much cursed.

“Wh- we didn’t do anything.” Nico rolls on his side, still confused.

“No”, Valtteri groans, irritated. “ _A sext._  To _Dan._ ”

This has a slight sobering effect. Nico blinks, stares the filth on Valtteri’s screen.

“ _Oh_.”

“Did you do this? I don’t remember doing this.”

Nico remembers them talking shit about this and joking, and Nico remembers that the phone was there, and he had it at some point – and yeah, the text seems more like something he’d come up with. There’s a response from Dan, too, just some emojis and _wtf mate??? how drunk r u?_

“I think I did”, Nico says. “Shit.”

“You’re the worst”, Valtteri whines again, pacing restlessly. “How – what am I supposed to do?”

Nico wipes his face, doesn’t quite have an appropriate answer. Sure, Valtteri could tell it was him who sent it, but that sounds kind of like an excuse, and also raises a whole lot of questions itself. Not that Dan wouldn’t be able to figure out there’s some sort of curse involved, maybe. Valtteri definitely wouldn’t sext Dan in any situation normally.

Still heavy with sleep and hangover, Nico’s eyelids fall shut, his state of awakeness not quite there yet. He hears Valtteri say something but doesn’t register to him. Valtteri saying his name sharply and throwing something soft at him does, however, and he looks back up to Valtteri, who is stressed and suffering.

“Don’t fall asleep on me! You did this. Solve it.”

“Like, now?”

“Now!”

That’s a task way too demanding this soon. Nico yawns, perfectly aware of how unpleasant this is for Valtteri, but still too enveloped in his own hangover to acutely care. He shakes his head, does a lazy effort of a shrug.

“Just say it was me”, he suggests sluggishly. “I don’t know. Choose between bad options.”

Valtteri tosses his shoulders in frustration, stares Nico viciously and does some more restless pacing. Nico closes his eyes, slips into a more comfortable position as he figures it might take a while for Valtteri to calm down and accept any kind of suggestions from him. Might as well try to not provoke the hangover.

It takes a few moments for the steps in the background to stop, and before Nico fully realises that he hears the noise that the phone camera makes – he stirs, finds Valtteri with his phone, obviously taking a picture of him.

“What are you doing now?” he asks. He sounds a little hoarse. Valtteri looks at his phone, starts typing.

“I’m sending a photo of you to Dan. You look so shit he’ll probably accept that you sent that text.”

“And the aftermath of us getting drunk together becoming public knowledge doesn’t worry you?”

Valtteri looks at Nico, grave as ever.

“Speculation of us two will always be better than seemingly actual proof of me wanting to fuck Daniel.”

*

Valtteri clears from his hangover quite rapidly. Unfortunately all that sweating and puking doesn’t do anything to undo the curse. Nico is still vaguely nauseous when Valtteri gets back to business, quite ready to rid this curse.

“I don’t have much time left to solve this”, Valtteri says, his head resting on his hand. “Are we going to have to break into Bernie’s place?”

“Well, if you don’t want to wait and see if it’ll go away with the little time you have. Or do the dirty deed.”

Nico kind of expects Valtteri to object this option again now that he has sobered up, but he doesn’t get a response – not even a disapproving look. Valtteri just stares outside, his leg jumping nervously.

“So, you’d actually be up for a fuck now?” Nico asks for verification. Valtteri’s eyes turn to him.

“Well, might be over with all this in five minutes”, Valtteri says. Nico quirks his brow.

“Five minutes? That doesn’t – that doesn’t leave much room for, you know. Exploration. Experimenting. You sure you want to waste an opportunity?” Nico says, gesturing awkwardly at Valtteri’s body.

“Somehow I’m more concerned with other things. I just – I just want to get this off me.”

Nico feels sympathy for Valtteri, but before he can really respond to this he is startled by his phone ringing – Valtteri looks at him suspiciously, and Nico is just as confused when he sees the caller ID. For some reason, Jenson is calling him at this hour.

“Might have to pick this up”, Nico says, a hunch coming to him. “I’m putting this on speaker.”

“I don’t know if I want to hear this”, Valtteri says. Nico rolls his eyes.

“It’s not a bootycall.”

Nico accepts the call, places the phone on the table.

“Morning Jenson”, he says. There’s some chuckling on the other end.

“ _You sound like you’ve been drinking, princess_ ”, Jenson says. “ _Are you alone?_ ”

“No, and you’re on speakerphone”, Nico says. “Cut the sweet talk.”

“ _Shoot. Who are you with? Is it Valtteri?_ ”

Valtteri looks at Nico in shock, face turning red. “You told him?” he hisses, flushes even more when he realises Jenson has heard his new voice.

” _Yeah! How’s it been there, Valtteri? Or do you go by Valerie nowadays?_ ”

“You’re going to get me killed if you keep talking, Jense”, Nico cuts him off. Valtteri looks more murderous than he has for at least a few hours. “You have something relevant or are you just trying to chat me up?”

“ _I have something relevant, yeah_ ”, Jenson laughs tad bit nervously. ” _Listen, this isn’t as ridiculous as it should be – but, yeah. I’m at Bernie’s place-_ “

“Why?” Nico asks suspiciously. Valtteri seems a tiny bit less murderous as his curiosity peaks.

“ _Well, I might be a tiny bit cursed myself here_ ”, Jenson elaborates. “ _Had a bottle of whiskey sent to me by an anonymous – you know, I’m not the sharpest tool in the pack, right? It was a little bit cursed._ ”

Nico rolls his eyes. Valtteri stays silent, though he seems to desperately want to ask something – he’s just too shy to have Jenson tease him more about this, even though Jenson is absolutely not in a place for that.

“What’s up with you, then? Permanent erection to match your personality?” Nico asks, far too nonchalant. Jenson snorts in response.

“ _You are so sweet, Britney. Nah, this time something more discreet._ ”

“Whatever. Just bring an antidote here, will you? You remember which one it is.”

” _Pink one that glitters, sure do._ ”

“And don’t get caught. No one has seen you, right?”

“ _Well, I’d say that’s not a problem, I’m kind of completely invisible, see?_ ”

Valtteri looks the phone, then Nico, in surprise. Nico is quite bored by this. God, this means Jenson’s naked there, doesn’t it? Of course he’s not wearing anything, clothes don’t turn invisible with the curse. Jenson is sneaking around Bernie’s house naked. Again.

“Just get it over with and drop the antidote over here”, Nico sighs. “And wear some clothes when you get here, okay?”

” _We’ll see._ ”                                                                                             

“I certainly hope so. Bye, Jense”, Nico ends the call. Valtteri is quite taken by this turn of events, but still has some snark in him, looking Nico quite judgementally.

“You’re kind of a bitch, you know that?” he asks. Nico cocks his head, stares Valtteri dryly.

“As if you haven’t been a total hassle”, Nico points out. Valtteri shrugs, acts like he’s completely innocent, leans back on the chair. “You were a seductive little vixen last night, don’t you think I’ll take your cutesy awkward act anymore.”

“You will”, Valtteri answers, complete deadpan. Nico stares him, raised eyebrows and disbelief oozing, but Valtteri’s serene confidence is menacingly eroding. How much of Valtteri’s public non-public persona manufactured, actually? Because he doesn’t seem that much of a nervous, awkward, innocent sweetheart he’s made a reputation of anymore, but again – despite the steely eyes and stern stand – Nico is tempted to buy into it for some reason he can’t comprehend.

Nico looks away, uncomfortable with questioning things he thought to be the truths of the universe and desperate to get the situation back to his hands and his turf. He stands up, puts up a so very nonchalant and knowing persona – he is that, right?  - and cocks his head, looks at Valtteri the way he’s been playing him since he began his little vixen act. After all, Nico is the one who invented the whole thing. He knows the rules better than anyone.

“You still want to try ‘get it over with’ now that Jenson’s bringing an antidote? You know. Just in case.”

Valtteri blinks, doesn’t seem too bothered by this. Slowly, he examines Nico from head to toe, and then looks him straight in the eye, chin up confidently as he tries to not smile.

*

There’s a knock on the door and Nico looks at Valtteri, still so very much cursed, who gives Nico a look that is both incredibly dry and petrified the same time – Nico doesn’t need to be asked to answer the door for him.

Nico walks to the door, flicks the door eye cover and checks if the guest is who they are expecting – there’s nothing. Nico has to take that as a positive. Why the dumbass hasn’t used the antidote on himself already is beyond Nico’s comprehension.

“Is that you, Jenson?” Nico asks through the door, just to be sure. There’s some rhythmic knocking on the door as a response.

“Sure is. Are you going to let me in or talk to air, crazy?” Jenson replies. Nico rolls his eyes, opens the door and tries to figure when Jenson has slipped in by the soft footsteps. “I told you to wear clothes, didn’t I?”

“Probably. Was easier to sneak in like this, though, so what you going to do about it?” Jenson says, is probably grinning. Nico closes the door, figures where Jenson is standing by bumping into him. He’s very naked. Nico has just let in a very naked Jenson in Valtteri’s flat. F1 has such stupid nuances.

“Careful, love, I’m in a very vulnerable state. Where’s Valtteri? Valentine? Britney Junior? I want to see him.”

“He’ll kill you first and then me, forget it”, Nico scoffs, realises Jenson is already trying to sneak off and manages to grab his arm (definitely arm, yes) and stop him. “Where’s the antidote, you asshole?”

Nico is faced with silence. He looks at the nothingness where Jenson probably stands grinning like a shithead.

“Oh, no.”

“You said it, love.”

“No!”

“Oh, I’m just teasing you”, Jenson assures. “See, I figured it’d be spooky to see a jar just floating about – ghosts, you know – so I stole Bernie’s invisible purse.”

“Of course he has an invisible purse. You couldn’t fit clothes in there, though?”

“It’s a purse, not a luggage. Here – I’ll give you the antidote.”

Out of nowhere the jar appears – a familiar sight to Nico. This thing better work, and probably will. After all, they have tried absolutely everything there is to try. Nico takes the jar to make sure it’s absolutely the right one and detaches from Jenson. Seems to be the correct jar – there’s a label with some sexist statements on it. Classic Bernie.

Nico realises Jenson is free to roam when he starts whistling, can’t quite silence his footsteps as he proceeds further into the flat, looking for Valtteri. Nico hisses, runs after him – tries to. Jenson is fast and invisible, it’s kind of tricky as hell.

“Stop it, you ass!”

“Just a little peek!”

“No! Valtteri, Jenson is running around naked in your home!”

“It’s very pretty, you have a lovely taste!”

The steps find the living room where Valtteri still probably is and Nico is quite nerved, how very sweet of him to be so considerate of Valtteri’s privacy and feelings and whatnot, he’s actually taking some offense here. But, before he even fully realises it, one of the larger sofa pillows flies through air and hits something – something being Jenson, because the pillow drops illogically mid-air and Jenson makes a surprised sound and gets decked, apparently, because there’s a thud and groaning.

“That’s some aim”, Jenson whines, still on the floor as Nico almost trips over him.

“How’d you even know where to throw?” Nico marvels Valtteri’s magical strike. Valtteri is slowly making his way to Nico, back against the wall as he tries to remain unseen by Jenson.

“Army tricks”, Valtteri says shortly. He just manages to slip behind Nico as he says it, appropriately when Jenson perks up and probably tries to catch a glimpse.

“I didn’t think you’d sound like that, even after the phone call”, Jenson says. “Hey, can’t I even have a look? I brought you the cure.”

“We can’t see you, would that be fair though?” Nico points out.

“Fair enough.”

“Is that the antidote?” Valtteri asks, again very meek now that Jenson is around. Nico nods, hands him the jar.

“Just toss some on yourself and you should be your normal self again.”

Valtteri takes a look at the jar, sees Bernie’s gross labels and makes a face, looks at Nico. Nico tosses his shoulders in response. The less you have Bernie in your thoughts the better. Valtteri opens the jar, but unfortunately Jenson has got back on his feet again and moved around just so he can see Valtteri, and of course, won’t keep his face shut.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d look like that! Not a bad look on you, though.”

Valtteri blushes, and it’s Nico this time giving murder looks. Jenson is probably unaffected. Luckily Valtteri isn’t too caught up in this anymore and doesn’t attempt to decapitate Jenson or anything, opening the jar. He frowns instantly at the putrid smell.

“Why does it smell like this?” he hisses.

“Eye of newt. Don’t fuss, just toss the powder and you’ll be done.”

“All of it?”

“You can take a shower again, don’t get fussy!”

“…Again?” Jenson asks like the leer he is, making Nico realise what he has just said – both Valtteri and him look up at each other, caught by revealing themselves.

“Shut – shut up already”, Nico tries to dismiss Jenson. The asshole is probably smiling right now. Valtteri is fumbling with the jar, hurriedly trying to move further with this ridiculous ordeal by transforming. He throws the insides of the jar on himself, pink dust spreading before a pink explosion manifests, accompanied with a bang (of course) – dammit, Nico forgot this shit catches into your throat. The three of them cough as the cloud of pink dissipates slowly.

“Hey, that’s a familiar face!” Jenson chirps. Nico looks – sure enough, Valtteri is back to normal, so very relieved about this.

“I’m never opening anything from Bernie ever again”, Valtteri states, hurries to a mirror to make sure everything is in place.

“It’s something you have to learn the hard way”, Nico admits, turns towards Jenson – or where he supposes he is. “So you have your antidote in the invisible purse as well, or?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to use it here or? I don’t think you’ll be able to sneak around naked and invisible in Monaco for much longer.”

This discussion is cut off by the door phone – Valtteri hurries to answer it, still caught up in the joy of being his usual self again.

“Hello?” he says, seems thrilled to hear his normal voice.

_“Hello, we have a package for you from Mr. Ecclestone downstairs – looks the same as the previous one.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> \- Yllätyspyllätys : what a big fuckin surprise
> 
> lmao i know exactly how this is bad and it's on intention - and it is absolute gold in every other respect. also i was supposed to do an explicit sex scene but it kind of didn't fit the tone (the tone was very important) but if someone pays me a twenty or something i'll fuckin do it lol


End file.
